


A Woman's War

by Lady_in_Red



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Pregnancy, book canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 20:32:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6093223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_in_Red/pseuds/Lady_in_Red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had no choice. That didn’t make this any easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jaime

They had no choice. That didn’t make this any easier.

Brienne tried to pretend she wasn't in pain, but she was restless even in sleep and the coppery scent of blood in their chamber was impossible to ignore. She'd been like this for three days and Jaime was beginning to wonder if they'd made a terrible mistake asking the wildling midwife for moon tea. 

The castle had no maester, but the wildling’s herbs couldn't be that different from the tea Jaime had stolen from Grand Maester Pycelle so many years ago. Brienne would recover, just as Cersei had. 

Cersei had lain in bed for a few days, pale and lovely, feigning tears when Robert eventually came to see her. He'd asked Pycelle when he could plant another babe in her, then taken Jaime with him to guard the door in his favorite brothel. A few rounds with an eager little brunette had put a smile back on Robert’s face, while his heir bled out of Cersei and she vowed never to let him get her with child again. 

Simple, a cup of tea and a few days’ rest. That was what Jaime had told Brienne. She’d barely spoken as he explained his reasoning, just stared at him with solemn eyes. After everything they’d been through, she trusted Jaime more than she should. It had never occurred to her to rid herself of the babe until he’d suggested it. 

When they’d found the wildling woman to ask for her help, the woman had glared at him, muttered that men knew nothing. Then she’d touched Brienne’s ruined cheek and told her she could bear it, if this was what she wanted. Brienne’s hand had shaken as she lifted the cup to her lips. 

She whimpered in her sleep, her arm curled around her still-flat belly. Time passed strangely here, days blending together until neither had any idea how long ago Jaime’s seed had quickened in her womb. The signs had been there for some time, but he hadn’t wanted to see it. Winter still held the North in its frigid grip, food was scarce, and the few sickly babes born at the castle recently had not survived more than a moon’s turn. Two of the mothers had died as well. Jaime had helped carry one of them to the pyre in the yard.

Surely it was better this way, before Brienne felt the babe move, before she saw its face. Cersei had lost her wits when Joffrey was placed in her arms. Brienne would be the same, putting that fragile life above hers without question. Jaime forced the unlikely but nonetheless appealing image from his mind, Brienne holding a tiny babe to her breast, crooning softly as she stroked its wild pale hair. Their child. A child that would likely die and might take Brienne with it. They'd had no choice. 

Cersei’s children were dead. Brienne’s would never draw breath. Jaime owed it to her not to flinch from this, to not leave her to suffer alone. He was the one who had first kissed her, the one who'd unlaced her breeches and promised not to spill inside her. Jaime’d kept that promise, but she’d quickened anyway. 

He pulled back the furs and crawled into bed beside Brienne, held her close and felt her relax in his arms for the first time in days.

Outside their chamber, wildlings mingled uneasily with Night’s Watch and Northmen, and wights roamed the forests and fields. This was no world for children. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a brief snippet on [Tumblr](http://ladyinredfics.tumblr.com/post/139859707061/three-to-five-sentence-fic-challenge-fulfill-it) that goes with this, filling in a little of Brienne's POV.


	2. Brienne

Her body was sticky with sweat, her mouth dry, and she felt weak, wrung out and shaking. The sheets beneath her were tacky and dark; the room smelled like a slaughterhouse. Her back bowed as another wave of pain sank its claws into her belly. 

Brienne wanted to stand and fight, but her legs were like jelly and she’d fallen heavily to her knees the last time she’d tried to get out of bed. Jaime had tried to help her up, but she’d pushed him away. She’d felt better on her hands and knees, rocking and keening until the pain receded again. After some time even that position had no longer eased her pain, and she’d struggled back into bed with Jaime’s help.

She understood why men were kept away when their women were suffering. He hadn’t slept. Jaime had left her side only to use the privy and fetch them food, and Brienne could scarcely bear to look at him. Vargo Hoat had not frightened him, nor the bear, Lady Stoneheart, even the Others. Yet there was fear in his eyes now. Much earlier, when she’d closed her eyes and tried to rest, Brienne had heard Jaime praying to the Warrior, and then to the Mother. 

This was never supposed to happen. After Ser Humfrey left Evenfall in the back of a wagon rather than astride his horse, Lord Selwyn had called his advisors together in his solar. Brienne had hidden in the corridor and listened as her father, the maester, the castellan, Septa Roelle, and Ser Goodwin the master-at-arms discussed her prospects. The maester advised Lord Selwyn to wed and produce a son. Brienne had flowered late and bled rarely. Even if her father found her a husband, she was likely barren. Brienne had believed them, but she and Jaime had been careful from the beginning. And yet the pain wracking her body was proof that the maester was wrong. 

Brienne panted, trying to master the pain, but it took hold again nearly as soon as it eased, giving her no respite. She must be dying, because surely nothing so small could hurt so much. Pain seized her back, lanced down her legs. There was a hot gush between her legs and suddenly burning pressure. “Get the midwife. Something’s wrong.”

Jaime bolted from the room, white faced and wide eyed. 

In the field the enemy had a face, a weapon to counter and parry, a weakness to exploit. Here her body was the enemy, and she could not escape it. The Mother working her will. This was a punishment for her false words and broken vows, to live with sword in hand and die in a bed of blood.

The door opened, but Brienne could barely focus on the sharp-eyed woman who bustled in. She curled in on herself, bore down against the pain, howling as the midwife rushed to the bed. She was talking, but Brienne heard nothing but the rush of her own blood, pushed against the pain until the burn abruptly eased and with another gush the pressure released. 

She fell back, breathing hard and dizzy, sweat running into her eyes. No, she was crying, tears blinding her. The room was so quiet, and then a small cry.

Another cry rose in the silence, and Brienne tried to blink away her tears, push herself up against the pillows. The door opened and Jaime burst back into the chamber, his gaze moving swiftly from the bloody mess in the bed, to her face, and over to the midwife, her back turned to Brienne. He went straight to the midwife and, ignoring her protests, took a small, squirming bundle from her and carried it to the bed. 

“I promised you,” he said softly, passing the bundle into Brienne’s arms. “Someday we would have a choice.”

Jaime had held her, long leagues and many moons ago, and made a promise she’d never really believed he would keep. 

A small squeak drew Brienne’s eyes at last to the babe. Big blue-grey eyes peered up at her from a scrunched-up little face that reminded her of her father, and the curls still damp with blood looked more like gold than straw. Jaime reached out and touched one small hand, five fingers grasping one of his.

Outside their chamber, knights and nobility mingled with farmers and fishermen, deer roamed the forests, and crops grew in the fields. Against all odds, the world was alive with possibilities again. 


End file.
